


Larkspur

by SLWalker



Series: Game of Thrones: Alderaan [13]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hay Fever, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 13:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12842160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: Bail's day started off really good, but it didn't stay that way.





	Larkspur

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to B_Radley, who I borrowed Draq' from with love. Many thanks to Merfilly for prompting this, and for Empress Elizabeth who gave me several words which I made sure got into this fic. XD

Different things filtered into Bail's awareness, not all in order.

The first was that his head felt heavy; not the heaviness of a hangover or anything, just a sort of strange, almost liquid sensation. It might have been a head-cold, except it was high summer outside and his nose wasn't stuffy, though there was a little bit of a tingling sensation somewhere in the back of his nasal passages, which led to the thought that maybe Bre was trying out some new kind of perfume, but all of this was quickly preempted by the very hot mouth currently giving him a leisurely blow-job.

Not the first time Bail had woken up to that particular pleasure, but even as he made a sleepy, rough noise of appreciation, he could definitely say he never, ever got tired of it.

He fumbled a hand under the light, summer-silk sheets and reflected on his fortune in life (not everyone got to wake up to being deep-throated by a particularly talented zabrak) and he was just about to say something half-clever, something witty and maybe a little spicy--

\--when he _sneezed._

Not the soft, polite sneeze of someone with a vague tickle in their nose. This sneeze was _cataclysmic_. It jerked his whole body and then was followed in rapid succession by three more of the same, each one more intense than the last. Later, Bail would reflect that it was the very first time in their relationship to date that he was thoroughly glad that Maul _wasn't_ biting him. (Not that Maul bit him there anyway, but still, if ever there would be an accidental chance...)

When he could finally open his eyes again, still right on the edge of a fifth sneeze, he was met with the utterly bemused look on Maul's face, as his lover rested a forearm across his hips and chin on that arm, peering up at him. "Finished?" he asked, seemingly not put out by the fact that he was interrupted in the middle of playing Fellatio Alarm Clock.

Bail opened his mouth to answer, "I think so," but ended up just sneezing again.

A few minutes later, having to perform some mild feat of acrobatics in order to actually hit the 'fresher's toilet while still sporting one impressive hard-on -- involving leaning deep into the wall on one hand while aiming with the other and sort of pointing _down_  -- his head was finally caught up to the fact that _something_  was going on and decided to turn into an ocean. His eyes watered. His nose ran. He managed to hit the bowl, but then he was sneezing again.

When he stumbled out to find Maul eying him, some combination between worried and disgruntled, he managed to put enough together to croak, "Hay fever."

 

 

 

"You should delay and take something for this," Bre said, reaching up to hook his collar, hands deftly maneuvering around his own, which clutched the first of what was likely to be a dozen handkerchiefs.

"If I take anything, I'll sleep all day," Bail answered, trying to sound as normal as possible with what felt like ten tons of concrete shoved into his sinuses. "And I can't cancel, either, this contract took eight weeks of negotiation. My mother would skin me."

"Mazi would not skin you," Maul said, from where he was leaning against Bre's vanity -- carefully -- with his arms crossed. He was a little bit surly over the fact that he hadn't gotten to finish what he started; if not for the hay fever, Bail was pretty sure he would have found himself cornered at some point during the day, because Maul could get single-minded about certain things, and giving devastatingly good oral sex was one of those. Not the worst thing to fixate on, sure, but it wasn't going to cure hay fever. "If anything, she'll make you tea and then go handle the contract herself," he added.

"Mom already has a meeting with the Founding Day committee, love," Bail pointed out, switching his handkerchief to his other hand while Bre straightened out his tunic.

Bre shook her head, working her jaw, probably in an effort not to laugh at him. "How about you come back and take something _after_ the meeting, then?"

"I was supposed to call your uncle and discuss Alderaan's interests in the Abhean Shipyard." Bail rubbed at his forehead and the headache steadily building there. "I'll be okay. I know what's causing it, they only bloom once every ten years anyway."

Maul took less than two seconds to identify the culprit. "The fire-tailed larkspur?" He made a face, something both disappointed and still-disgruntled. "That's a shame, I was hoping bring some home to study. It only pollinates, as you say, once a decade and the blooming period is only for a week."

"You can study it to both hearts' content, just _not here_ ," Bail said, half a plea, shooting a look over at the zabrak.

Maul's expression softened. "Of course."

"Well, whenever you get done with all of your obligations, come back here and take your medicine," Breha said, stepping back now that Bail was as sorted as he was going to get. Then she gave Maul a long look. "And if you still want something to do with your mouth, Maul, I'm free during lunch."

Bail almost groaned when Maul straightened up a little bit, decidedly self-satisfied. "My lady."

He made sure to huff at both of them on the way out the door.

 

 

 

They _were_ beautiful flowers. Tall and spiky, they ranged from yellow to orange to red, all in the same bloom, and if not for the fact that they were ruining Bail's day en masse, he might have been feeling more charitable towards them. But instead of waking up to orgasmic pleasure, instead of getting to hook his fingers around a set of horns and appreciate the fact that Maul seemed to have no gag reflex worth considering, instead of getting to have a nice breakfast with his family and maybe spend the day relaxing (and watching Breha and Maul 'have lunch' and having seconds himself), he was stuck going to a dry contract signing to be followed by a dry discussion of business and politics with an in-law that was sure to linger, all while suffering hay fever.

As such, Bail glared at the flowers, with his watery, bloodshot eyes.

He stuck his second handkerchief into the bag he was carrying just for that purpose and pulled out the third.

Normally, Bail drove himself everywhere; he liked driving, for one, and he didn't like the image of himself with a chauffeur, for two. But today, it seemed perfectly sensible to let someone else handle that while he tried to keep from dripping too much on the upholstery.

Until the driver brought the vehicle to a halt.

"What is it?" Bail asked, leaning over to look up and out, wondering what the pause was.

"The Larkspur Festival, sir," the driver answered, pointing. "They haven't gotten traffic rerouted yet. Should only be another twenty minutes, though."

Bail checked the time and then thumped his head against the seat in front of him before opening the door. "--I'll just... walk. Thanks."

 

 

 

"Get some grit in your eye?" the man from the Commerce Guild asked, obviously hesitating to offer out his hand for a handshake.

Bail couldn't say he blamed anyone for that right now, but he still had a terribly awkward moment where he managed to force a smile and turn what was _going_ to be a handshake into fiddling a little bit with his handkerchief. "No, it's just hay fever. Not contagious, though, don't worry."

Even in the climate controlled office building where House Organa's business interests were handled professionally, there was no relief. Bail decided then and there, as he stepped into his own office, that they were going to upgrade to something that could filter out _anything_. He stood in front of his fine nerf leather chair and tried to look like the CEO of a vineyard and not like a little boy who should be at home with his doting mother.

The man nodded, slowly, in a manner which just made Bail feel even _worse_. "Ah. Well. I suppose we had best get started so you can go home and-- get that looked after."

Bail pressed a _very_  tight smile back. "Of course."

 

 

 

_"--solution twenty-nine besh eight, though, says that we have to have a really good reason for taking bids outside of the usual suspects. Don't you have a friend in the Corellian government, Bail the Lesser?"_

Bail sank lower into his fine nerf leather chair and took a sip of the tea his secretary had been kind enough to bring him, though the nickname he had gotten at his wedding made him smile some despite his misery. "You know I do, Bail the Greater. Draq' Bel Iblis himself. But if you think I'll butter him up enough to let Abhean cut into Corellia's market-share with some brandy--"

_"I'm not talking about cutting into Corellia's market-share, exactly. More-- filling in gaps. Little in-system hoppers, not the beasts that the Corellians make. But we still need to be able to bring that to the table without a fight, so if you'd be willing to call your friend--"_

 

 

 

_"No."_

Bail tried very hard to look severe and thunderous and hoped that his hay fever didn't show up in his holographic representation. "Look, Draq', you and I both know it'd practically be an insult to have the CEC bidding on these little in-system freighters, and the Abhean Shipyards have a long history with the Republic--"

Draq' stared back at him. _"Go home, Organa. You look like shit. Call me tomorrow or whenever you're not about to-- melt on your office floor."_

And then Draq' hung up on him.  He actually  _hung up on him._

Bail gaped at the empty space where the man's hologram just was. "You-- you-- you arrogant, mannerless, scruffy-looking _nerf-herder!_ "

It didn't really matter that Draq' didn't hear it.

 

 

 

Bail's one glance in the mirror was more than enough for him; after that, he stalwartly avoided all reflective surfaces. Something about seeing his puffy eyes and disheveled hair reflected back at him was just one thing too many.

Unsurprisingly, it was Maul who came to pick him up; while Maul didn't care terribly much for driving, unless it was to get somewhere he could walk, hike, climb or otherwise physically engage with the environment, he was usually the one who would take it upon himself to retrieve Bail from places, sometimes in a pre-planned 'interruption', sometimes because he just wanted Bail's company.

"No arguing," Maul said, holding out the packet of antihistamines, the ones guaranteed to knock Bail on his ass for the next eight to ten hours.

Bail stared at his desk for a moment, sighed, and then took the pills with a sip of his cold tea. "Good lunch?"

Maul snorted back at him. "As a matter of fact, yes. We had baked trout on a bed of greens and wild rice."

There was a moment there where Bail squinted back at his lover in naked suspicion, but when Maul's expression never cracked, he finally turned and headed for the door. Not that he would ever grudge his lover and his wife their own shenanigans (hell, he was onboard that with bells on), but there was something about having to spend the day negotiating while sick that made him just that tiny bit glad that he hadn't had to miss any of the fun.

He probably should have known better.

"Dessert, on the other hand, was exquisite," Maul added, smugly.

Bail ticked his head over to the side, and even for as lousy as he felt, he had to work pretty hard to keep from laughing at that. He turned back and snagged Maul with one arm, drawing him in, while catching a horn with his other hand -- after stuffing his handkerchief in his pocket -- just to pull Maul's head back, baring his throat and getting a shiver back. "I will get you back for this," Bail said, pleasantly, chewing down a smile by some force of will.

It was an old dance, but a loved one.

Maul bit his bottom lip, and then gave back a feral grin, canines showing, mischief incarnate. "I'm _counting_ on it."

 

 

 

By the time Bail made it home, his head was mostly clear.

He was also mostly asleep.

He wasn't entirely sure how he got from the garage to the lift to their quarters, but he knew it involved a pair of strong shoulders and an arm around his waist. Nor was he sure how he got into bed, but he knew it had something to do with the slim, graceful hands steering him there. Somewhere between those things, he brushed his teeth and had help getting changed into sleep clothes, but it was all disconnected; pieces, drifty and warm.

"Someone said something about dessert?" he mumbled, unable to even open his eyes, ready to let the long day of hay fever fade away into thick, antihistimine drugged sleep.

"Maybe when you wake up, dear-heart," Breha said, as she slipped into his arms, snuggling up under his chin.

"Or when the larkspur's finished," Maul added, warm all up against Bail's back, smile in his voice. "Whichever comes first."


End file.
